He couldn’t resist touching her. She was too close and too there. He lifted his hand to her cheek and cupped it gently.
“You’re impossible to ignore, dragonfly.”
She turned her face and kissed his palm. “Will you ever tell me why you call me that?”
“I’ve already given you that truth.”
She shook her head in denial. “Not the whole of it. You promised to tell me all of it when the time was ripe.”
“And you think that time is now?”
She shrugged. “It is as ripe as any. If you insist our arrangement is at an end, I want to know why you were so intent on it in the first place.”
He stroked his thumb along the curve of her cheek, all the way to her hairline. Her brow was furrowed again, and he wanted more than anything to smooth the crease. He felt the weight of her burdens as keenly as he felt his own, and the urge to lift them from her shoulders undid him. Letting her go would take every ounce of the resolve he’d rebuilt after his family died.
Would telling her how lost he’d become, how irrevocably tied to her he felt, help her? His throat was suddenly dry with the words caught in it, and he became achingly conscious she was waiting for his answer. She deserved it - even if his confession would leave her unsettled and him vulnerable.
“When you talk about them — your whole face lights up and I can see their magic. You’re part of that magic too, and you make me feel like the world is full of possibility and enchantment. When you told me about their abbreviated lifespan, you talked about how you admired them for living each day to the fullest. It’s what I admire about you too - the way you spread your wings and wrap them around the world. The way you swallow knowledge and radiate compassion. The way you make the space you occupy irrefutably yours.”
Her eyes were shining with tears now, and when she arched toward him and kissed the corner of his mouth, he turned his head. “That’s truly how you think of me?” She hoarsely whispered against his bottom lip.
“I think you’re extraordinary. Let me show you how extraordinary I think you are.”
“If I let you, what does that mean?”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he said. Even as he longed to tell her it would mean everything. That her complete surrender would rearrange his world.
“Then show me. I may never have another chance.”
He tipped her chin up so he could study her face. Her expression was resolute.
“I’m locking the door.”
Once he’d secured the deadbolt, he stalked toward her.
She stood her ground and released her grip on her skirts. “What about the windows?”
“It’s nearly dusk and soon we’ll be obscured from view,” he assured her as he slid his palm from her shoulder to the button at her throat. She leaned into his touch.
“Will you unbutton me? It’s what I wanted that first afternoon - when we made our wager.”
He’d been craving the velvet of her skin, and was only too eager to oblige. He ran his forefinger over the closure at herthroat. The jet button was secured with a bit of lace he knew her sister Cece had tatted. It was dyed a mottled cream, like weak tea, and set off the wine dark color of her dress.
He loosed it slowly from the lace and slipped his finger along the edge of her corset. Her hand moved over his as she unfastened the second button. He pushed it away and shook his head. “No. You asked me to do it and I’ll go at my own pace.”
She quirked a brow in challenge, but lowered her hands to her waist again. “I’ve been patient my whole life and my patience is running out.”
He swiftly unmoored the rest of the buttons, thankful for the haste that concealed his trembling.
The sleeves were tight, but he wrestled her arms free, one at a time. When he pushed the shirt from her shoulders, she let it fall to the floor behind her.
Her brows were level, but he could sense she was still challenging him. She untaped her skirt and it joined her shirt. Now it was only her corset, her shift, her crinoline and her petticoat. Still too many layers.
She stepped away and motioned toward him. “What of you?”
He pulled off his overcoat and laid it over the desk behind him. When he set his hands atop the buttons of his waistcoat, she crossed her arms and Cadoc decided to give her the show she was so impatient to receive. His plain cotton shirt was next and once it had joined the rest of his clothes, he bracketed his hips with his fists.
Her gaze went to his bare chest, and he couldn’t resist flexing it in response. A wry smile curved her lips as she unlaced her corset.
